It was Wrong
by DarkShine07
Summary: His face was much closer than she'd realized it would be, and his breath came out in a rush as he slightly leaned in. "I think you might enjoy it…if I did slip in one night."  ZevranxfemWarden   Oneshot


**/-/-/**

It was wrong. But not just that…it was _so_ wrong. Lyna just couldn't comprehend how those kinds of things kept interweaving themselves into her thoughts – her thoughts that were supposedly completely focused on searching for aid from the treaties, on demolishing the blight, on figuring out how to expose Loghain for the sinister manipulator he was. She should be contemplating strategies and tactics, or deciding on a path to take in order to reach the dwarves. But, she just wasn't. Not at all. She was thinking about…

"So, you spared me. Why is that? Why not just…kill me. I would have, had I been you. Well, maybe that's not all I would have done, but it would have been on the list, that's for sure."

Lyna hesitantly looked up from the log she had settled on at the party's campsite. It was evening, the sun sinking down slowly and allowing night to settle in upon the forestry the Dalish called home. Only a week ago, she, Alistair, Morrigan, and her furry companion had run into the character standing before her, gazing intriguingly down at her. She'd decided against killing him, after all, he had seemed earnest in claim to wanting to break from the Crows, but she'd been avoiding him all throughout that week. She'd been much too intent on straightening out the mess with the werewolf curse and the Dalish to even glance at the other elf.

Now that the ordeal was over and the party was on the road again, she was having a very difficult time ignoring the dauntingly blue eyes the elf had been studying her with. It didn't help that they were both elves in the first place; he almost instinctually reminded her of home and security. Besides that, however, he was so audacious in his admiration of her that she had to convince herself to ignore him time and time again. And he'd only been around a week…how was she going to keep this up? Would she want to?

"I told you, Zevran. I didn't see the reason in killing someone who was perfectly willing to help." She sighed, quickly averting her olive eyes.

She heard him cross his arms, the shiny armor he wore clinking slightly as he moved.

"Yes, but how do you know I won't just…slip in at night and slit your pretty throat?"

"I…don't. I guess I just have one of those feelings about it."

"Ah, so you have feelings about me. That does explain things." He smiled.

Lyna jerked her head up, her eyes widening. "No, that's not what I said at all!"

He seemed amused at her reaction. "So quick to deny it – if that's not a conjecture to the truth, then I don't know what is."

Lyna rose to her feet, her dark brown hair falling off her shoulders as she did so, and worked up a nasty glare. It wasn't the easiest task to complete. Glaring at anyone else, sure, but Zevran…no. Nevertheless, she forced herself to think clearly.

"Why don't you just give it a rest? I'm thankful you decided to help me, but that's it. I don't trust you."

He didn't seem taken aback in the slightest, but he held his hands up in a surrendering gesture, never allowing the confident smirk to fade. As he made no move to respond, Lyna took it to mean the conversation was over. She tore her eyes away from him and proceeded to attempt storming past him. As she brushed by his shoulder though, one of his raised hands caught her and halted her retreat. She turned her gaze at him, amazed that he both dared to stop her and also touch her in the process. His face was much closer than she'd realized it would be, and his breath came out in a rush as he slightly leaned in.

"I think you might enjoy it…if I did slip in one night."

Dazed, Lyna couldn't summon a retort before he released her and strode away. The idea was enticing, she had to admit, but utterly irrational. She'd known him a week, for the Maker's sake! She shook her head to clear her thoughts, and then continued on with her day. She didn't have time to worry about ex-assassins trying to seduce her and so on. The dwarves were waiting, and she knew she had much bigger fish to fry.

**/-/-/**

Finally, Lyna thought to herself as the party waved farewell to the city of Orzammar. Deciding which candidate to the thrown to endorse had been difficult for Lyna, but in the end she'd chosen the prince. He did seem to rightfully deserve it, as he both carried the blood and the advice of his father. She thought he'd make an excellent ruler now that his position was sure. If only it had been that simple, though. She was drained of energy now that she'd completed everything she'd had to do in order to ensure his success. Finding the Paragon in the Deep Trenches had to have been the most excruciating quest she'd undergone so far. Not only had Branka been difficult to find, but difficult to work with as well. She regretted it, but she'd been too weary to convince the dwarven woman that the anvil needed to be destroyed eventually. Some other hero could handle that when the time came, she figured.

As they walked away from the city, Lyna led the group with Oghren joining them. She was appreciative of the extra help and sense of humor he provided. Her mind strayed as she realized Zevran was very close behind her, probably studying her figure as she walked. He'd…surprised her in the Deep Trenches, to say the least. When the party had stumbled upon the Brood Mother - Lyna cringed at the memory of that awful creation - she'd almost failed her quest entirely. It was an intense battle, one that required Lyna to instantaneously figure out the best method of approach to defeating the creature, her tentacles and minions alike. Morrigan and Oghren both gave out in the end, leaving Lyna alone with Zevran to work together.

By the time the other two passed out, the Brood Mother was very close to dying. Her tentacles had ceased to spring up, and she was visibly weaker, mostly due to Morrigan's persistent ice hexes. Lyna didn't have time to throw the other two potions before they dropped. Zevran had looked to her for instruction, and in his eyes, she'd seen something she hadn't expected. Admiration, of course, he'd openly said he admired her before, but there was something that meant more, to her. Trust. His gaze told her he would trust whatever she told him to do to be the best line of action. That kind of power he'd given her was world shaking. She'd been convincing herself he just thought she was pretty and was looking for nothing more than some fun; but trust was a sign of something greater, something with more substance. It was a foundation for much more potent emotion.

She'd nodded firmly as he gazed at her with those trusting, light blue eyes that were sinfully captivating, and sent them both forward to rush the Brood Mother. Lyna hacked away, praying she wouldn't weaken to the point where'd she need another potion – the supply was already nearly depleted and she needed them to help revive her fallen friends. The Brood Mother wailed in pain as blood spewed out where the swords bit into her goopy flesh, and in her pain anger manifested. With one slimy arm, the creature yanked hold of Lyna and drew her to level with oozing eyes. Lyna felt the breath knocked out her lungs, and fought to reach for a potion despite not wanting to resort to one. The demon saw her action, though, and continued to shake Lyna rapidly until she couldn't think straight anymore. She could barely tell what was going on, let alone that she direly needed a potion. And then…the tentacle gripping her dropped suddenly as the Brood Mother squealed and slumped, dying.

The grip around Lyna's waist loosened as she hit the ground and her body thumped. She felt limp and dizzy, sure the darkspawn would eventually wander in and make a feast of her flesh while she was helpless to stop them. She blinked, her vision blurry and spinning, and then she recognized a face kneeling before her. Zevran, she thought. He must have slain the Brood Mother. She wanted to hug him for saving the party, but was unable to move. He grabbed one of the potions that hung on her belt and gently parted her lips to pour the liquid down her throat. As the substance worked its magic, Lyna steadily regained her senses and balance. Zevran was eyeing her desperately, looking more and more relieved as she came to. She blinked after a few moments and became aware of his hand cradling her cheek. It felt nice.

Lyna caught herself smiling at the memory of his touch. She quickly chased it away and brought herself back to the present. It had been a brief moment of care, that was all. He'd gone right back to his usual antics as soon as everyone was revived and well. She had caught him ogling her ever since then, and unabashedly at that. He was annoyingly distracting when she was supposed to be focusing on the anvil and the crown.

"How are you feeling?" He asked from behind her.

"I'm…fine." She replied.

"That's a shame. I kind of preferred the you when you were vulnerable and off guard." She could practically see his smile even though he was behind her.

She chose not to reply. It meant nothing, she told herself adamantly. Still, she couldn't deny that just the presence of him being so near to her as they walked along the path was blissful.

That night the campfire warmed Lyna's aching muscles. She talked with her companions until one by one they retired. All except one. Zevran was opposite her, but now that everyone was gone, his gaze seemed transformed as the firelight danced across his face, illuminating his handsome features. Lyna blinked slowly, tired and ready to go to bed. She rose and felt awkward as Zevran continued to stare so openly at her.

"Well…goodnight." She said quietly, eager to turn her back and walk away.

As she did, though, she saw a hint of a smile flicker across Zevran's expression. She bit her lip when she had turned and headed to her tent in a rush. She just had to escape. She couldn't stand the way she got all frenzied whenever he was trying to get a rise out of her. It was frustrating, irritating, maddening, and attractive- no. Not that last one, she mentally told herself. Trying to divert her thoughts, she proceeded to removing her armor for the night. She moved in the dark, settling her things in a place where they'd be safe, and then got down to find her sleeping pallet. The warmth of the thin blanket was inviting, and enwrapped her comfortingly as she shut her eyes.

She'd just barely fallen into a light sleep when the sound of rustling woke her. Sleepily, she rolled and turned her head so she could view the whole area. There was a glint of armor shining as it moved, and she discerned a figure at the entrance of her tent. She squinted, trying to make out what was going on. The figure turned and then she realized it was Zevran. She wouldn't have panicked if she had not also noticed he was removing his armor – that was why it was glinting. She nervously jerked, moving into an upright position as she gripped the blanket around her shoulders, covering her exposed skin. Her mouth was agape as she struggled to find something to say, to protest, to do anything other than stupidly watch as he removed his shirt after his armor.

That was when he finally looked at her, to admit to knowing she had discovered him. He walked to her, only a few paces away, and kneeled down in the shadows, his light hair catching what little light there was in the space. She looked into his eyes, blue and effervescent as they penetrated her wall of defense.

"Is this the night?" He asked softly, his tone low and striking.

"Which…night?" She replied, confused.

He smirked. "The night to slip in."

She lost all intentions of ordering him to leave. The urge to fight him off yet again just wasn't very appealing in this light, or lack there of. The was he was gazing at her, a look of longing and knowing written upon his face that the darkness couldn't veil, she knew there was no way she would be able to resist.

"Yes." She finally managed to whisper.

And just like that his lips were upon hers, taking her in delicately as he tested the waters. Her eyes instinctively closed as her skin tingled excitedly. She could feel his hand at her cheek, just how it was when they'd been in the Deep Trenches. She wasn't very good at kissing, at least, she didn't think she was, as she'd never really done it regularly before. Zevran, being as active and experienced as he always boasted, must find her helplessly mediocre at it. But it hardly mattered; she was too swept away in the feeling too much have room to think about anything else.

Zevran eased himself down onto his knees and his hand slowly went down to where hers was clutching the blanket. Lyna's grip tightened and she hesitantly pulled away from him when he tried to pull her hand away. His free hand moved to her chin, where he pulled her gaze back to him, so he could look into her eyes. She felt timid and shy, suddenly. What was she doing? Yes, she'd done this before, but it had been so different and unattached. Just going through the motions. Already, she knew the fire his kiss was inspiring within her was strange and foreign.

"Don't be afraid." He assured her gently.

She still was reluctant, but released her hold on the blanket. Zevran nodded at her, and then proceeded to use his hands to slowly push the material off of her shoulders. It slipped down to the ground she was sitting on and revealed her body, dark as it was. She looked away, afraid to see his reaction.

"Why do you turn away? You are a marvel." His voice caressed her ears.

She returned her gaze to him and saw that he did look sincerely pleased. He thought she was beautiful…a marvel. That must account for something, because he had to have seen countless women before. He kissed her again, but deeply this time, fueling the flames ever so much more as his hands tenderly touched her slim waist, her back, her breasts. She finally dared to venture with her own hands to his perfectly sculpted form. His muscles were hardened as stone, but yet felt smooth and supple to her at that moment. He seemed to appreciate her touch, for he sighed in between kisses and closed his eyes.

One of his hands moved to her back, wrapping around her, and the other went to her chest. He subtly applied pressure to her front, and she leaned back. He guided her down into a lying position in which he hovered above her. He returned to kissing her as his hands mellifluously flowed over her skin, and hers traced along his spine. Everywhere he touched her, she burned. He kissed her neck, and then she gasped quietly, the sensations overwhelming her. It had definitely never been like this before. He looked at her a moment later, pausing in his pursuits to see her. She saw it again, then. The trust was shining in his eyes, and she was reminded that maybe this wasn't just for the fun of doing it, to him. But the thought that it might be, forced to stop.

"Zevran…" She whispered.

He tilted his head, waiting.

"Why…why are you here? If this is just…a one time thing I would still be glad to have done it, but I need to know…is that was this is?" She took a long breath when she finished, afraid of the answer.

He ran his finger through her hair as he replied, "I don't think one time would be enough of you, for me. I can tell right now, I'm never going to get enough of you…you've captured me. Body and soul."

He could be surprisingly deep it turned out. She was moved, and completely surprised. Was he admitting to whatever feelings she was sure his look of trust signified? It seemed unlikely, unthinkable even more so, and yet…his gaze and words suggested otherwise.

"I…don't know what to say." She managed.

"Tell me you feel the same." He stated, his expression suddenly serious.

"I…think I do." She replied.

That seemed to satisfy him, for he smiled so emotionally that she couldn't help but smile with him. She moved her hands to his face and loved the prickling bristles of the facial hair he hadn't had time to shave while in Orzammar. He kissed her again, and she could tell he was ready to progress to the next level. His hands were skillfully removing his pants, which he'd left on up until now. That kindled a thrill in her, one of both nervousness and excitedness. In no time he was bare, and then he used one hand to draw the blanket over his back, covering them both. He settled between her, and stroked her cheek as he kissed her. She was completely swept away when he entered her without warning, throwing her head back and exposing her neck to him again.

He steadily thrusted, working up a rhythm that Lyna soon had to fight not to match. The fire within her was more alive than ever before, and took her by surprise. She certainly hadn't experienced this kind of passion until now, this fiery feeling of wonder and ecstasy. Only Zevran could give it to her, she realized. Why had she resisted for so long? She could have found this that first week, but no. It didn't matter. He was with her now, and it was like being in paradise. When she finally came, she was even more thrilled at the sense of pleasure she'd never experienced before. She closed her eyes and stifled a moan as she feeling overtook her, drowning out all thought and comprehension. Moments later Zevran sighed delightedly and collapsed gallantly on top of her, resting his head below her chin.

She ran her hands through his blonde hair, enjoying the golden feeling. If it was like that all the time, she thought to herself, she'd never get enough of Zevran either. She was sure now. Absolutely sure.

"I think I'm going to fall in love with you, Zevran." She said faintly.

He lifted his head and gazed at her affectionately, a smile taking up residence yet again on his face. That smile would mean so much more than a sarcastically flirtatious comment from now on, she knew.

"Good. I thought I was the only one falling here." He replied, and her heart warmed.

It wasn't wrong…she realized. It was never wrong. It was more right than anything ever had been before. He would help her save Ferelden, and he would do it gladly. He would give her adventure with the promise of love to come. What could be wrong about that? She smiled in the darkness. Not one single thing.


End file.
